[The narration keeps him grounded, moment to moment, fear of vulnerability lost to that shower of praise soon webbing him back into deep, aching lust. He can hear where Cy is by the sound of his voice, and the touch of hands over his body tells him the rest. The combined sensation is almost overwhelming — sensitivity kicked to a heightened degree like his mind can't decide what to track first. His attention follows the path of those fingers down the slope of a hip and over the curve of his ass, and when they find his messy cunt — still desperately wet with his own arousal, a flood he can't seem to stop even after numerous orgasms — there's another physical jolt of hips as he gasps.
It feels intense. It isn't like he couldn't tell where Cy's touch was headed, but the anticipation is exaggerated, sharpened under a lens of focus. There's the renewed recognition of his swollen belly spoken in Cy's voice, that he's holding life between them — and then the slick sounds of Cy's tongue. He doesn't have to see to know what the man is doing.
Then those instructions, which he abides, perhaps a little too hastily as his hips surge back and Cy's cock slides into his pussy as deep as he can get it, forced to crush his bent knees beneath his own weight. It's not something he would have done with anyone else. This — obscene, lurid display that feels almost more vulnerable than when he's facing Cy, almost filthier than anything they've done yet, because it means he's doing it all himself. He fucks himself back onto Cy's cock with an urgent need, the slap of skin in that collision too loud in his ears, making his skin burn with embarrassment and hot, vivid hunger. The jagged edge of his breath becomes audible — he can't maintain an even rhythm for long, as hips falter and one knee slips, but he keeps trying. Trying to be good enough to deserve that praise.
Perhaps because he can't see himself but he knows Cy's eyes are on him, it allows the leniency to just let go. There's no shame in the drive of his body as he bears onto Cy's cock, voice a little louder, moans broken into high breathless sounds.]
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It feels intense. It isn't like he couldn't tell where Cy's touch was headed, but the anticipation is exaggerated, sharpened under a lens of focus. There's the renewed recognition of his swollen belly spoken in Cy's voice, that he's holding life between them — and then the slick sounds of Cy's tongue. He doesn't have to see to know what the man is doing.
Then those instructions, which he abides, perhaps a little too hastily as his hips surge back and Cy's cock slides into his pussy as deep as he can get it, forced to crush his bent knees beneath his own weight. It's not something he would have done with anyone else. This — obscene, lurid display that feels almost more vulnerable than when he's facing Cy, almost filthier than anything they've done yet, because it means he's doing it all himself. He fucks himself back onto Cy's cock with an urgent need, the slap of skin in that collision too loud in his ears, making his skin burn with embarrassment and hot, vivid hunger. The jagged edge of his breath becomes audible — he can't maintain an even rhythm for long, as hips falter and one knee slips, but he keeps trying. Trying to be good enough to deserve that praise.
Perhaps because he can't see himself but he knows Cy's eyes are on him, it allows the leniency to just let go. There's no shame in the drive of his body as he bears onto Cy's cock, voice a little louder, moans broken into high breathless sounds.]